Kindred Spirits
by Tinsela
Summary: As Beth slid her eyes back to her book with a resigned pout and her miserable thoughts filling her head, she failed to see his eyes scanning across the room, until they stopped at her lone figure. [Beth/Daryl, HOGWARTS-AU, STUDENTS-AU]
1. APART

**Notes:**

JKR et al./Robert Kirkman et al./AMC and developers of the TV show TWD own all characters etc. this story is based on. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

 _Pairing:_ Beth|Daryl

 _Genres:_ Romance|Pining|Friendship|Hurt&Comfort (because I can't not write something with a little sadness)

 _Who's who:_ Beth's "not" a stalkerish 5th year|Daryl's "not" a grumpy 6th year

 _Setting:_ Hogwarts-AU|Dolores Umbridge era|HP: OOTP

 _Rating:_ T

 _What's what:_ flobberworm: toothless, classified as 'boring,' used to thicken potions (info comes from HP Wiki)|I'm not British or hail from that general area, sorry if what I write doesn't comes across as 'British enough'

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 **KINDRED SPIRITS, PART I: APART**

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The scratching of frantic quills filled every window nook and hidden cranny of the Hogwarts Library.

There was a near constant swishing of turning pages by students sitting under the glow of desk lamps and candles.

At a table sat a lone figure. One hand joined the music of quill scratches and the other strong hand anchored at a corner of his parchment paper.

His long fingers strained as they hugged themselves to the paper and met resistant against the tabletop.

Beth wondered if he would leave his fingerprints behind.

If he would claim it as _his._

Beth blinked hard, her own hands clasped around her Charms textbook, palms dug into the thin hardcover edges.

 _What a stupid thought,_ she chided herself. He _had_ marked the paper as his.

Beth had seen him scribble his name on the top margin.

His flexing fingers moved with such fluidity.

Beth had to stare.

Her eyes followed the clear view she had of his sun-kissed skin, and then she silently cursed the terrible, horrible sleeve that sinfully wrapped around his bicep.

Beth gulped and glanced down at the open book she had strategically placed on her table. Propped up with her notebooks and ink bottle, she could swivel her eyes from the boy to her book, at a moment's notice.

Her grip loosened around her book before letting go altogether. She ran a hand through her loose hair and refused to look up.

Her hands shook lightly, as she deliberately clung once more onto the hardcover book, fighting against the urge to move her eyes back to the young man.

Her pulse galloped faster.

 _Don't stare, don't stare, don't stare..._

Her inner mantra failed.

Her eyes pulled back to him.

 _Those hands,_ she sighed to herself, refusing to acknowledge the oncoming shame she felt from spying on him, yet again.

As though unaware of his audience, he tugged at his rolled sleeves.

Beth watched him.

A thick hunk of flesh, which could only be muscle, refused to budge and allow the cloth to roll up and over.

She licked her lips.

Beth decided right then and there that she was not staring for an obscene amount of time. No, Beth was _studying_ him, even better than that, she could rely on the excuse that she wanted to help him.

She was kind like that. Yeah, she was kind.

 _'Daryl, tear off your sleeves, then you won't have to worry about rolling them...'_

Or,

 _'Oh, hey Daryl, I watched you - nonono - saw you trying to push your sleeves up, maybe if... if you didn't flex... all those muscles wouldn't be in the way.'_

She pictured herself settling at his side. His taller frame would align perfectly with hers as he threw an arm around her shoulders.

His eyes, usually hard and carrying a heavy weight, would be soft and never stray from hers for too long. He would smile at her attempt to help him roll up his sleeves, causing his eyes to crinkle adorably at the corners.

It was unfair, borderline torturous, how she thought of ways to speak to him... but never did.

 _'D'you have a spare quill?' and_ ' _can you move?'_ did not count as conversations, not in Beth's eyes.

For years, she had been a mere flobberworm.

If her Care for Magical Creatures class had taught her anything, Beth knew without a doubt that she was comparable to a _worm._

Whenever this Dixon boy graced her eyes, she became a squirmy and slobbering mess.

Now, as she wished to charm his shirt from existence, Beth could not stop the wary thought that had picked at her repeatedly in the past. Whenever she had thoughts of being courageous and walking up to Daryl Dixon, this one wary thought would stop her. To him, she knew without a doubt that she was, in fact, a flobberworm.

Near useless and not to mention boring.

Beth blinked hard, then subtly swiped along her mouth and - _no drool, praise Merlin!_

She ran a hand through her hair and cleared her throat with a _hmm-hmm._

At his own table, Daryl Dixon sucked in a sudden harsh breath.

She nearly jumped out of her skin because the noise he had made disrupted the symphony of quills etching on parchments and the turning of pages.

He had tightened his grip on his quill.

Beth feared it would snap under the weight.

His tanned skin now had a reddish hue, accompanying the flush on his cheeks.

As Beth slid her eyes back to her book with a resigned pout and her miserable thoughts filling her head, she failed to see _his_ eyes scanning across the room, until they stopped at her lone figure.

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 **Notes:**

 _A heartfelt and truly grateful thank you to_ FlyingRedPanda _for being kind enough to beta read this chapter!_

There are future installments I have in mind, at least 4 more, and are a lot longer than this first installment. Here are some of the planned titles:

 _KINDRED SPIRITS, PART II: TRANSPARENT_

 _KINDRED SPIRITS, PART III: BLINDED_

 _KINDRED SPIRITS, PART IV: TOGETHER_

I'll admit right now... I love feedback. Don't be shy! I gladly accept constructive criticism, but flaming or hateful comments - will be met a reply in-kind. Don't like the content or subject, don't read it. Simple really.

 **My works can also be found on Wattpad as xTinsela. And on Ao3 as Tinsela!**


	2. TRANSPARENT

**A/N:**

 **Thank you to everyone who had reviewed the first chapter!**

 **I recognize that this fan-fiction is quite cringe-inducingly-corny-and-horny. But in my defense... well, I've actually got nothing to counter that... just wanted to try my hand at the Bethyl pairing... _*shrugs*_**

 **Uhhh. About the rating? Mature content on the horizon. I'll mark the start and end of mature scenes for people who aren't interesting in sexual content. I wasn't expecting to write M stuff. Actually, I didn't want to write smut at all, but Daryl has a specific kind of personality and a fire burning for Beth... soooo...** _***blushes***_ **Daryl's dirty mouth also makes this story M, so if you aren't here for smut the rating is due to crass language.** _ **  
**_

 **Disclaimer 1: I don't own and don't claim any copyright(s) of TWD and HP, as well as any cover art. I write for fun and that's all, folks!  
**

 **Disclaimer 2: Daryl is canonically foul-mouthed... with equally foul-thoughts.**

 **Disclaimer 3: lemme know if you see any missing letters or words that fit wonky in sentences. I might not have caught all the mistakes.**

 **.:.**

 _Who's who:_ Beth is not a bookworm 5th year student|Daryl is "not" a destroyer-of-quills 6th year student.

 **.:.**

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 **KINDRED SPIRITS, PART II: TRANSPARENT**

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His eyelids drooped lower as he gazed - _stared - 'oh fuck, that makes me sound even more like a creep_.'

 _Drip . . ._

The startling brightness of her eyes rivaled the clear skies outside of the castle walls.

 _Drip . . ._

Was he a little disgusted by how she made his blood boil so damn easily? Daryl questioned himself, and, oh yes, he knew pining was for fucking losers.

He had better things to do than watch the pretty little blonde, that's what he told himself.

 _Was that honestly true?_

 _'Fuck, yeah,'_ he argued with that stupid voice in his head that sounded much too like his sappy friend.

He should look away from her. He knew he should.

His eyes shook with the effort to tear away from the sight of her. He followed her soft and slim figure and her fucking shining eyes. _'Nobody's eyes should be that bright, dammit, it ain't natural.'_

With this great act of trying _not_ to notice her, his heart only hammered faster.

 _Drip . . ._ he was unaware of the ink blobbing at the sharp end of his quill's hard-brass metal tip. Something else was... _ahem_... hard.

"I'm so fucked," he rushed out in one heated breath.

Wispy hair splayed around her. He gnawed at his lip, wondering how she'd look underneath him, pretty mouth gasping as her blue eyes begged him for _more._ He knew her eyes, he'd been gazing into them for years now. He knew what she wanted, without her needing to speak a word, the only sounds he wanted her to make were breathy whimpers and desperate calls of his name.

 _"Achoo!"_

Daryl's focus ripped away from Beth to the unwanted noise of someone sneezing between the towering bookshelves behind him.

His freehand pounded once on the table, angry at the distraction. _'What the hell...?'_ he screwed his brows together in question at the sensation of cold liquid leeching onto his flesh.

His lifted his hand up and saw the edge of his hand colored blacken from... the... _'the fucking ink!'_

He stared for a moment longer at the stain, he knew it would take more than one washing to scrape the smear off.

The feathers of his quill tickled the back of his hand, and he hurriedly turned his head to glare down at the next problem he faced. In his hand, the stem of his quill had snapped in his shock of hearing a sneeze amidst his fantasizing. The top feathered portion of his quill had managed to land squarely on the back of his hand.

Sweeping his eyes from the quill, to his ink coated hand, and at the failure that was his essay, he summed this situation up, saying, "Shit."

 _'Only the first week back,'_ he mused with a frown, ' _already swamped with shit and surrounded by nasty fuckers.'_

He didn't know how he would make it through the term.

A tiny movement drew his angry eyes from the mess he made.

He chanced a look at her.

His heart hammered at an obnoxiously fast pace and just like that, just like _magic,_ as corny as it sounded he wasn't so angry anymore.

How could he be when bright eyes stared back at him? He knew those eyes, right now they were questioning and full of concern...

 _'Was she worried about me?'_ Daryl allowed himself to wonder, briefly. Very briefly he allowed himself to dream.

His hand twitched, causing him to violently throw his broken quill down while his knees jerked underneath the tabletop - and then all hell broke loose due to his unusually clumsy movements.

His inkwell tipped over from his knee-jerk, spilling all of its contents onto his parchment and the table.

Beth's mouth dropped open, eyes wide. She clutched at the edges of her textbook while leaning forward to the edge of her chair.

The Vulture of the library, otherwise known as Madam Pince, came flying around a corner, hissing at him for the ink slowly seeping into the grooves of the table Daryl occupied. She vanished the ink with an immediate wave of her wand.

"Anything to say for yourself this time, Mr. Dixon?" she craned her neck down at him.

Beth's lips clamped shut in fear at hearing the sharp tone of the Vulture.

He shrugged his shoulders.

A decidedly nonchalant move, Beth noted, and she couldn't help but roam her eyes over the wide span of his chest and the girth of his shoulders.

 _'He was so strong,'_ she sighed, wanting to run her hands down his neck and pull him to her by his shoulders.

"-other. Not again, Mr. Dixon, this is the last time. I will be speaking to the Headmaster about your lack of compassion."

Beth reared back into her seat, no longer sitting precariously on the edge.

What did the Vulture mean by _that?_

 _'Daryl was plenty compassionate...'_ Beth pulled along a chunk of her hair, fingers latched to the end of a curl. _'He was kind and strong, and...'_

Her hand slowly dropped from her hair before falling limp to her lap, she raked her brain for the past experiences she had with the elusive Daryl Dixon.

He was mysterious, keeping to himself and less-than-a-handful of friends... and she was definitely _not_ one of them.

Sinking further into her chair, she realized she had no memory of speaking to him beyond asking for a spare quill, but she wanted _more._

But how?

She wanted to hold him close and press her ear to his chest, listening for his heartbeat and hoping his would be racing as fast as hers. She wanted to fall into him and hear him whisper in her ear.

Her eyes drooped slowly, heavy-lidded by the warm weight of her daydream.

She wanted _more._ More than classmates, more than a smattering of accidental glances, more than just staring at him from afar... but how could she tell him what she wanted, when she hadn't the courage to say more than pleasantries to him?

How, indeed.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Sorry this is short. At around 700 words, I tend to lose my brain and call it quits but managed to push myself to write 1k! I wanted this out before November, hence the shorter chapter. I had an idea about Bethyl in Herbology class but didn't get around to writing it in time!**

 **Not Beta-read: to anyone interested in being my second pair of eyes, please PM me; I do edit my works before sending a chapter out to a beta-reader. I'm mainly interested in having another person inform me when something doesn't make sense and spelling. I tend to overuse metaphors and similes. Don't expect to do heavy editing because I tend to crank out the main errors first.  
**

 **Please review if you would like me to continue writing this story. Do you want to read more...?  
**


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